


Idem Compar Geminus

by Citadel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Priest Castiel, Sibling Incest, Tags Are Hard, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citadel/pseuds/Citadel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idem Compar Geminus (ICG Type A or ICG Type O) – a rare mating characteristic that occurs in 3% of identical twins or 2 in every 291,725 persons among fraternal twins or full-blooded siblings, in which siblings of the same gender and sexual identifier will have the genetic compulsion (also known as the true mate impulse) to bond with each other and a single, unrelated person of the opposite identifier. </p>
<p>Sam and Dean finally got over the personal angst and social stigmas when they accepted the bond between them and started living as mated ICG alphas. But they’re still waiting to find their omega to complete their bond, until one day they catch their omega’s scent just outside St Michael’s Cathedral.</p>
<p>Brother Castiel may not agree with all Catholic doctrine, but he loves his religion even if the Vatican has outdated views on omegas. Besides, he must pay penance for his sins, until one day he scents something he knows will change his life. The only thing worse than meeting one’s true mate while under a vow of celibacy is meeting two true mates.</p>
<p>And the Catholic Church doesn’t exactly have a progressive stance on ICG matings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idem Compar Geminus

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta-ed; forgive me.
> 
> I had a Cas/Dean/Sam alpha-omega kink and a plot bunny hopping behind it. So I created a universe to fit my kink. Have fun with that.

“ICG?” the stylish beta with the large, wideset eyes seemed just skeptical enough that Dean realized she genuinely hadn’t heard about them. Nobody gave her a head’s up that she’d be meeting a statistical anomaly tonight. Most of Sam’s associates make it a point to mention ( _warn_ ) new business acquaintances about Sam and his mate/brother before these ritzy business galas. Best way to avoid awkwardness.

The strange eyes whipped from Sam to Dean back to Sam again, only to give them each a thorough head-to-toe scrutiny. Her interest piqued, she spoke into her champagne fluke, “You don’t look like twins.” Lilith, as Crowley had introduced her, casted a worldly impression. So it was no surprise to Dean when she bypassed the judgment or embarrassment of more conservative minds and leapt straight into flirty curiosity by licking a stray drop of champagne from her lip.

“That’s a common misnomer actually,” Sam said, all-friendly and openness. He had plenty of practice explaining the phenomenon to laymen in social situations and being a natural attorney helped him maneuver around bigots and the uber religious. He shifted his weight, brushing up against Dean’s side, “It’s true the condition was first recognized among identical twins, hence the G for Geminus, but they actually only make up seven out of ten authenticated ICG cases. The rest are fraternal twins or regular siblings like us.”

He’s good at it or at least that’s the excuse Dean uses if Sam complains that he always gets stuck as the ICG public service announcement when they meet new people. _‘I don’t explain it right,’_ Dean defends, _‘You’re all systematic about it. You got friggin’ talking points in your head, Sammy, plus flowchart if they start debating you. You get all super-hot-lawyer-nerd-mode and start siting references and case studies. I just end up sounding like a damn Jerry Springer episode.’_

“Well, well,” Lilith glanced to Crowley at her side, “when I heard about the DA’s golden boy Winchester, I pictured some cookie-cutter, dead-eyed suburbanite. Why don’t I ever hear any of the good gossip?”

“Don’t let them fool you,” if Sam had _super-hot-lawyer-nerd-mode_ down, then Crowley’s got _sleazy-insurance-ambulance-chaser_ perfected, “They do live in suburbia.” Everybody gave Crowley the perfunctory chuckle that seemed prerequisite at these soirees, except for Dean who generally found Crowley’s dry wit to be funny, so he flat out laughed. He’s out of place at these things anyway, so why pretend any different?

Crowley’s a consummate corporate lawyer and the Winchesters have known him a long time. Long enough that Dean knew he was a twisted, corrupt sonnava’ bitch who literally sold out his mother for a boost up the political ladder. All that aside, he can be trusted in one single regard; Crowley considers the attorney-client privilege to be inviolable. Though Sam and Crowley have often come up head to head in court as prosecutor and defense attorney, Crowley’s never used any of the dirt he has on Sam from back when Sam wasn’t his competition, but instead his client. It’s pretty much the only thing he’ll keep his word on or at least the only thing he’s kept his word on so far. That might be why in spite of everything, Dean still considered the little snake a friend, or at least a frenemy.

Sam, on the other hand, despised him. Dean just couldn’t bring himself to. He remembered Sam in his law school years, shaking from coke withdrawal and sobbing, because all his life and all his scholarships were about to be swept away with five felony drug charges. Fuck knows how he did it, but Crowley took two right out of court, plead two others down to municipal summonses, and Sam was only found guilty of one misdemeanor for contributing. Even that, Crowley told them not to worry about; it never showed up on Sam’s criminal history, which Dean thought probably wasn’t kosher. He can’t be bothered to care as long as Sam’s record is crystal clear, so nothing hinders his career.

For all Crowley’s suavity, he broke character long enough for Dean to catch a pointed glare over Lilith’s shoulder when she sauntered into Sam’s personal space and Sam stiffened up, civil smile vanishing into a colder visage. That flash of loathing was meant only for Dean, a warning that Crowley hates this woman and thinks Dean should know it too.

Like Dean needed any hint that this bitch was bad news.

A warning snarl caught in his throat and Dean didn’t even give a damn if he looked like the blue collar knothead they already thought he was. That woman was outright scenting his mate! She was on her high-heeled toes just close enough to not quite touch, and face raised near his collarbone. If her nose was any closer to his neck it’d be too lewd for a public setting.

Dead stepped between them, all alpha and dominance. Posturing knothead was something he was good at. What Dean expected was the beta to naturally relent a step back from a territorial alpha, but she only moved to scent him instead and then it was Sam that growled softly behind him, snatching Dean’s hand and backing him away from the beta that was taking liberties with himself and his mate.

Lilith took one more gentle sniff and drained her champagne away in two lusty gulps. “Well you get jealous like legit mates,” she seemed pleased that Dean bristled to that, “and you don’t smell sick.” The reference she was making was to incestuous relationships outside an ICG mating- remote hillbillies or the type of thing that happened in V C Andrews books. Family members in ruts and heats smell repulsive to other relatives, nature’s defense against the genetic complications of inbreeding. But just like some weirdos got off on scat play, so did some sickos get off on that repulsion. The resulting mated odor reeks sour or rotten.

That’s not what happened to Sam and Dean at all.

Sam’s rut has always smelled fantastic to Dean, just as enticing as any omega’s heat, except ten times more so. Sure it wasn’t the sweet scent of an omega; it was all alpha musk and to Dean it was 100% attractive. It inspired nothing, but pure _want_ from him since day one. It also smelled so _right_ , something he resisted for years.

And their semi-mated odor was just as pleasing. People were often confused by it. Sam and Dean’s separate scents were obviously that of brothers, still there was the distinct entwinement of two balanced aromas exactly like a mating, if not a tad muted. It confused people, yet was one of the primary reasons they didn’t get more shit when they introduced themselves as mates. Open minded persons can easily smell the truth to it.

Neither Sam nor Dean bother responding to Lilith’s comment, letting the mating bond speak for itself.

Maybe a tad disappointed not to get a reaction, Lilith winked at Sam, “Where’s the lucky omega then?”

“We haven’t met our omega yet,” Sam jumped back into _open lawyer mode_ , “Sorry, thought that was obvious.” He motioned to the space where Lilith had been scenting them. There wasn’t a smidgeon of omega’s odor between them.

“Pity,” some more suits were coming up to their circle with Zachariah in the lead and Lilith flipped her hair over her shoulder when she turned to walk away, “let me know if you’d like a substitute until you find that third wheel of yours.”

“What a piece of work,” snorted Dean and having never liked Zachariah either –not since the Christmas party where the drunk douchebag had cornered Dean and pointed out that without an omega Dean looked like a brother-molesting pervert to him, he snatched Sam’s empty glass from his hand and excused himself, before the prick could introduce his buddies, “I’m gonna go get us another, _sweetie_.” Term of endearments weren’t really their thing outside the bedroom, still Dean wanted Zachariah to hear him say it.

“I need a refresher myself,” following in step, Crowley excused himself. Sam would’ve sighed, but Zachariah had already approached him, hand outstretched. Dean counted himself lucky that as a lawyer’s mate, he didn’t need to make the rounds with Sam and could scamper off when talk of business and politics started.

“Why’d you bring that chick over?” Dean asked, when they were far enough away, “Bitch needs to back off.”

“She asked to meet you two.”

“Why?”

“Probably getting a feel for Sam’s weaknesses,” Crowley and Dean approached the bar and Crowley motioned to the bartender with his empty glass, ice clacking inside, “Or she really does have a plaid kink. Either way, she’s on city hall’s payroll and it’s safe to say that the FBI’s audit is making them nervous if they’re already trying to weasel into the DA’s office.”

Dean bristled at that, not only because anyone trying to undermine Sam riled up his alpha, but also because he cleaned up nice tonight _thankyouverymuch_ and was even looking sort of dapper in his designer suit and tie. Plaid kink, indeed. “You…got a plaid kink,” he muttered, lamely.

Crowley’s comeback was scathing and pitying at the same time, “Poor, dumb Dean.”

The bartender, who was really astute remembering a scotch for Crowley and a bourbon for Dean, slid their drinks in front of them. “Can I get another bourbon?” he waggled Sam’s glass and started to dig some cash out of his wallet for gratuity. Good memories in bartenders should be tipped.

“Yes, sir,” there was an extra flourish to her pouring and how could Dean miss the subtle way she pushed up her cleavage when she dropped off the drink in front of him, taking the cash from his hand. She was 10 years younger than him, blonde and bubbly. Would’ve been just his type not too long ago… still was a bit his type, truth be told.

“Do you miss it?” Crowley asked when the bartender hustled off to serve a woman in a power suit. So entranced with the exaggerated swing in her hips, Dean almost missed the question, then awkwardly pretended not to understand Crowley’s arched eyebrow when he was caught leering. “Don’t be coy,” sometimes Dean thought that Crowley talked like other people painted with oils, layers and layers of inflictions instead of pigments, “Once upon a time, a sexy little, beta like that would’ve been in the back of your four-wheeled fetish mobile, naked with legs spread, after just one of your patented blue steel smolders or green-eyed winks.”

“Must’ve lost the taste for it,” Dean pushed off the bar, “or I’m losing my touch.” His eyes seemed to automatically search out for Sam’s. Still stuck in the middle of one of Zachariah’s _god-awful_ golfing anecdotes, Sam was laughing as required, but his hazel stare was locked onto Dean and there was a possessive flash that let Dean know he’d been busted for ogling. If he played his cards right tonight, that jealous glare could also mean some sexy, alpha dominant times too.

Between Lilith’s sniffing and Dean’s wandering eyes, a territorial Sammy was a hot Sammy.

“Oh please, any more eye fucking and I’ll call the cops for public indecency,” Crowley groaned, wandering over to the large window that provided a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Dean stepped next to him, also hypnotized by the sparkling lights. “Heard about that tweet from Reggie Jackson,” Crowley’s face brightened up as if he only just remembered to mention it, “Congrats. Nice plug for the shop. Business must be booming after that one.”

“Thanks,” grinned Dean, “Our phones haven’t stopped ringing for a week. Nice guy. I’m working on this hot, little 1971 Plymouth Cuda Hardtop for him. This sweetheart’s got a kick to her, that’s just … wow. It’ll be a sad day when I have to hand that little girl back to her daddy.”

“But a good day for your wallet, I imagine.”

“It’s a living,” he shrugged, happy to be talking about something he loved. In the past three years, Dean’s shop had become a hotspot for classic American car restoration and he had two people to thank for it: Bobby Singer’s salvage yard, which was now getting a reputation for highly specialized salvage parts, and Sam’s high, steady income that got them the bank loan they needed to revamp the shop into a lean mean mechanic’s wet dream.

His life had never been this awesome and put together as it had been in the past few years. Sammy and he had finally left their demons in the past and committed to each other. They mutually bore the scars of each other’s mating bites on the right side of their necks, where neck meets shoulder. Dean was free to reach out and touch his baby brother, kiss him right at the edge of his jawline just like he fantasized when he was twenty and gangly, little Sammy was filling out into the man he’d become. There were no more girlfriends to secretly hate, no more Ruby and cocaine or Lisa and Ben. Just the brothers, mated and happy.

Maybe not totally content, there was still an omega out there somewhere.

“… I heard without an omega, it’s not authentic,” Dean heard a sultry voice raised around the corner. A moment later a small group of women entered and giggled as they gossiped. Leading the way to the ladies’ restroom was Lilith in her white skirted, business suit. She was speaking conspiratorially, but loudly nonetheless, “Just because you’re banging your brother doesn’t make it ICG.” They didn’t see Dean and Crowley still with their backs towards the room, staring out into the night, “Makes you wonder how young they were when it started. Can’t help thinking maybe big brother couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Poor Winchester, that’s gotta fuck a guy up, you know?”

Dean felt the blood run to his face. Humiliation wasn’t something he was accustomed to; it was shame that settled over him, thick and black like an old, familiar trauma. ‘Let it go, don’t confront them,’ he replayed over and over in his head. The hands still holding his and Sam’s bourbon were shaking with rage and he hated himself for it as he watched their reflections pass by. A dark whisper echoed unbidden in the back of his mind…

_Sammy was only sixteen when you first got your hands on his cock. Can a sixteen-year-old boy really consent to his twenty-year-old brother? Sick…_

Crowley made an interested, ‘hmmm,’ sound into his scotch.

Just before the women disappeared behind the restroom door, Lilith’s eyes shot straight up and met Dean’s full on in the window’s reflection. She smirked at him, winking.

“My, my, my,” Crowley tsked, “If she works for who I think she works for, tell Samsquatch to watch his ass. Good news, he’s on the right track. Bad news, they seem to be targeting you to get to him, so watch your ass too.”

***

Sam rolled over in his sleep and instinctively attempted to wrap his arm around Dean’s waist, but the bed was empty. The cold spot woke Sam up completely and he blinked in their dark bedroom, no Dean in sight. Had he slept through one of Dean’s nightmares? Not likely. He was hoping with how fucking tasty Dean looked in that Dolce & Gabbana suit that he’d gotten him last Christmas (okay, so more like he bought Dean a new suit as a Christmas present for himself) that Dean and him would’ve fooled around before bed, but on the drive home Dean had relayed what Lilith did and well, Dean really wasn’t in the mood after that.

Pulling on some sweatpants that had missed the hamper, Sam tiptoed quietly down the hall and stairs. It was chilly in the house and the alpha in him fretted that his mate might be cold. The softest muttering of a TV program was flickering light and shadows from the living room.

Dean was sitting on the couch, nursing a beer and watching Dr. Sexy. As Sam drew closer, Dean scented the air and said, “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Don’t worry about it,” flopping heavily onto the couch, Sam used the armrest as a headrest and bent his gangly legs to thrust his feet into Dean’s lap. Dean might’ve shot him a dirty look, yet his alpha wordlessly tucked the bare and chilled feet under his t-shirt and cradled them against his stomach. “Hey, hand me my laptop,” he pointed to the coffee table. Another look to let Sam know he was pushing it, before Dean awkwardly lunged for Sam’s computer and gave it to him.

“You’re welcome,” Dean made a point to say, when Sam didn’t say anything at all, just flipped on his computer.

On the TV, Dr. Sexy pushed up behind Dr. _That-actress-that’s-too-hard-to-work-with-so-they-gave-her-the-boot-after-two-seasons_ in order to demonstrate how to operate on some lady’s spinal cord, which Sam thought looked like a hell of a HR complaint, but the seduction immediately drew Dean’s attention back to the screen. Once, Sam thought the show was an insipid, pointless melodrama (it kind of still was), until Dean coyly mentioned Sam’s and Dr. Sexy’s tall, long-haired resemblance. Well, he could certainly work with that. If Sam ever wore a pair of cowboy boots, Dean was putty in his hands. The show had some merit, after all.

“Nightmare?”

“No,” said Dean rather quickly, still facing the screen, “Woke up just before it started…we were just about to enter the cave, that’s all. Just didn’t feel like risking finishing it by going back to bed.”

What Sam wanted more than anything was to reassure Dean that when they found their omega the PTSD would get so much easier. It was a proven fact that alphas mated to omegas only suffered mild symptoms. Not that Dean and Sam’s own bond hadn’t helped. Dean was in bad shape when they’d finally agreed to live as mates. Dr. Pamela was optimistic that the presence of an alpha mate would help Dean feel fortified and protected. On the upside, the nightmares were far less severe and less consistent; on the downside, Dean’s insomnia wasn’t going away.

Alphas mated to omegas never had insomnia. Sam and Dean’s omega would fix everything with their loving and gentle scent of home, Sam just knew it. Sam also knew it wasn’t fair to place so much hope and pressure on someone they hadn’t even met yet. He just couldn’t help himself. An omega would stop the whispers behind their back, make their mating legitimate to the world. Not that he needed approval to love Dean, but it would make life simpler. Especially, if Crowley was right and there was attempt to undermine him politically by portraying him as some sort of incestuous degenerate.

Lately though … Dean had been mentioning their unknown omega less and less. There was a hopeless shadow that was falling over his face and Sam felt powerless to motivate him anymore. He could tell it was starting to irritate Dean when he brought up their omega. They used to stay up late at night, imagining what they would be like. Male or female? Sam thought they were probably female, given Dean and Sam’s individual history with beta females. Dean would shrug it off, ‘ _Aren’t ICG people bisexual? Besides_ ,’ here he’d paw at Sam’s cock, ‘ _I think I’m getting a taste for it. Wouldn’t mind getting my mouth on another_.’ What kind of career did they have? Or would they be happier as a homemaker? Older or younger or did they fall between Dean and Sam’s age? What if their omega was just passing through and didn’t live here? Maybe they weren’t a US citizen and they’d have to figure out green cards and naturalization and stuff like that.

However, Dean wouldn’t play that game anymore. If Sam tried, he’d answer in sarcasm, “ _Guess we’ll find out if we ever find them, huh Sammy_?”

It was important to Sam to be okay with their mating how it was now; after all, they might never find their omega and to be discontent with their lives and bond would cheapen their love and all the progress they had made together.

Besides, it wasn’t like Sam wasn’t without his resources when it came to treating insomnia.

Sam opened _Search the Web_ under Edge and got to work. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t think the old clip would still be online; it was more that when one was looking for a specific porno on the internet, it was like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Luckily, he remembered the actor’s name had been _Lance_ -or _Steele Phoenix_ … or something close to it. After some random clicking, he found a wiki gay porn site and when his searches brought up some alternatives, he saw the name and remembered it. _Ian Phoenix,_ now a bit of a bear alpha that specialized in army and prison fetishes, in 1998 he was a well-muscled, pretty boy alpha that magically turned ‘straight’ alphas gay with the power of his knot. He had green eyes and naturally blonde hair that looked brown when wet and dark gold in the sun.

Under his heel, Sam felt a twitch in Dean’s groin and he raised his eyes to see Dr. Sexy inexplicably in a steamy shower, showing all the glistening skin that network television would allow. He smirked and went back to his laptop. To tease a little, Sam flexed his toes to stroke the stomach under Dean’s boxer shorts. Dean unconsciously licked his lips and took another drink from the beer bottle, gaze glued to the screen.

With adult eyes and the hands-on experience he now had with Dean’s body, Sam can concede that Ian Phoenix wasn’t the perfect copy of Dean that his hormonal fifteen-year-old-self believed he was. The proportions of the body weren’t quite right, though the shoulders were broad enough. It was the face that held a remarkable resemblance to Dean or to nineteen-year-old Dean at least, especially the eyes, nose, and cheeks. The jaw and chin were too pointed, but young Sam discovered that any ¾ profile shots cut Ian Phoenix’s jaw flatter and the cheekbones higher and BAM… there was Dean Winchester’s porn doppelganger.

Scrolling through Phoenix’s filmography, Sam focused around ‘96 and ‘97. It hadn’t seemed that old when Sam watched it for the first time and in his memory, it had the ‘ _start of internet porn_ ’ feeling. This took a bit more time than Sam expected. Phoenix had done a lot of movies and they all sounded the same. _Alpha Hunks on Alpha Twinks and Alpha Knot Slut_ and the like. He browsed through a few, looking for the familiar bedroom setting or that other skinny actor. Sam saw the title, _Rut Desperate: Barely 18 and Horny,_ and realized how familiar it sounded. Sure enough, the cover of the movie that popped up had Ian Phoenix and that skinny, shaggy-haired twink from his teenage memory on it. Ian was embracing the lanky alpha and Sam only just realized that the tantalizing star of the porno was supposed to be that eighteen-year-old, baby-faced alpha, not gorgeous Ian Phoenix.

His teenage-self had only focused on the actor that looked so much like his big brother.

Ensuring that the sound was muted, Sam scanned through the scenes on the play-bar and found the exact 30 seconds of porn that had dominated his post-pubescent life for years. Downloading in seconds, Sam played the clip in a basic media player and hit repeat. He sat watching it for a few moments, remembering how these 30 seconds of sex had driven him nuts with lust. This was the source of countless masturbatory sessions. Sam wasn’t that surprised to find the video still did it for him, tingling down his spine and pulling at his groin like a high school kid copping a feel of a boob for the first time.

“Whoa, what are you getting up to?” Sam raised his face to find Dean focused on him, not so subtly scenting Sam’s pheromones on the air. Dr. Sexy was paused and Dean smiled down at Sam’s burgeoning erection like the cat that got the cream, “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Sitting up, Sam maneuvered himself over to Dean’s side, “I want to show you something.” Sam grabbed the remote and flipped the flat screen’s input to his laptop wireless plugin. He put the laptop on the empty cushion next to him and Dean’s hand was already stroking his thigh. “Do you remember when we first got internet service?” Sam’s fingers ran over Dean’s t-shirt and chest, ghosting over his nipples and passing down to his stomach, only to dart upward again when Dean shivered in pleasure.

He quirked his head at Sam, but his smile was interested and willing to play whatever game Sam wanted to, “Yeah it was dial-up. One of those AOL disks they sent in junk mail.”

“Hmm-mmm,” Sam murmured against Deans throat. His lips traced up to Dean’s ear, breathing into it raggedly and Dean gave a sharp intake of breath and held it, “Remember that old sound of signing on? All that dial tone and whirring. Two out of three times you’d get that damned busy signal.”

Dean chuckled and dove down to Sam’s lips. God, Dean’s kisses. They were always so open and fervent. The kiss he was currently giving Sam was wet and somehow lusty in its laconic nature, methodical in its technique to work Sam up.

“Nostalgic, right?” said Sam, when his mouth was free. Dean attempted to work his hand into Sam’s sweats, but Sam forced his shoulders back down against the back of the couch. “That sound still kind of reminds me of sex. Do you know why?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s giggle turned into a moan when Sam licked down his throat and bit down on their mating bite, hard, “Ugh –fuck, mmm. Cause you were doing what every hot-blooded American male did the second they got on the internet. Looking for porn.” This time when he reached for Sam’s cock, there was no resistance.

“Every time I hear an old dialup I think of Dad’s old office with the lights off. I swear I can feel that old wood rolling chair under my bare ass with my pants around my ankles. Even the smell of that perfume-free hand lotion. Remember how slow it was- ah! Mmm…” the flat of Dean’s hand working up and down Sam’s shaft through his sweatpants was doing funny things to Sam’s breathing, “It took minutes just to get pics to load. I had a world full of pornography to discover, but I knew the first thing I wanted to see were alphas going at it.”

Dean pressed himself firm against Sam’s hip, thrusting slowly. Sam grasped Dean’s shirt and pulled up until Dean relented a bit of space to hoist it off. Their lips found each other again and the kisses were becoming loud and sloppy and desperate. Thrusting a thigh between Deans’ legs, Sam started grinding and creating delicious friction for them both. “I saw this still frame from this porno and I just clicked it randomly. Didn’t know it was a video. If I’d known how long loading was going to take, I probably wouldn’t have tried it.”

He bent over to suck at Dean’s nipples, biting and eager. “Oh Christ, baby boy- uh, ah!” Dean’s pelvic thrust almost unseated Sam, yet he hung on and jumped to the other nipple, leaving the other one bright-red and slick with cooling saliva.

“It took forever. I had jumped the cursor to somewhere in the middle to skip the lame porn-plot and get to the nit and gritty,” Sam paused to lave his tongue down Dean’s stomach and slipped down to his knees between Dean’s legs. His tongue teased just under the elastic of Dean’s boxers, latching his lips on the skin there to leave a hard-sucked hickey with a rough scrape of teeth. Dean arched into Sam’s mouth and Sam saw the head of Dean’s cock poking out from the top of his shorts. “While I was waiting, I couldn’t help thinking about you. Course, that was most likely because I snagged one of your dirty old rock shirts to smell while I got off,” at Sam’s urging and imp smile, Dean lifted his hips to let Sam slip his boxers off. Sam took a moment to toss his sweatpants off too.

Settling back on his knees, Sam gazed at Dean, naked with splayed legs and beautiful erection displayed. Sam was pulled forward by that invisible force that bonded the two brother’s every thought and emotion, like a hook in their hearts that could tear their insides out if they ever drew apart. He fell onto Dean with the same sort of reflex and urgency that keeps the skin away from fire. His chest pressed firm against Dean’s torso; his hands and arms were all over the rest of Dean, mindlessly stroking every part, from his forearms sliding against Dean’s own corded arms to his fingers wrapping gently around Dean’s neck to feel the wild race of his pulse. Sam nuzzled his face against Dean’s chest and caressed his palm over Deans’ face, groaning as Deans lapped and kissed wildly trying to suck Sam’s fingers into his mouth.

“I-,” Sam was trying to gather his thoughts enough to continue, distracted by the circular motions of Dean’s hips against his stomach. His own cock pulsed, ignored against the couch cushion, “I wanted you to find me like that so fucking bad, Dean. Find me and make me come.” He made to move back, but Dean, being pulled by the same force that Sam felt, sat forward as if yanked by a chain held by Sam and crashed their lips together. His fingers sank into Sam’s hair and grabbed rough fistfuls. There was love in the plunge of Dean’s tongue, lust in the grasp of his hands, and possession in the firm press of his thighs against Sam’s ribcage.

“I don’t know how long –uh-ah!” gasping, Sam relented to the forceful tug in his hair and presented his neck to his alpha. Dean’s nips and sucks got more ferocious the further down Sam’s throat they worked, mindful enough to keep any marks below the collar of Sam’s suits. “I don’t know how long I sat there smelling your shirt and touching myself, but when I opened my eyes about half a minute of video was loaded.” Sam reached blindly for his laptop and pressed play.

Up on the flat screen, the scene of a well-lit bedroom brightened up their own dark living room. There was Dean’s double standing in a ¾ profile shot behind a lanky, young alpha, plowing his big cock into his ass. The twink’s shaggy brown hair had fallen over his face as he bent over the bed, so even though the eighteen-year-old didn’t look like Sam at all, it was easy to pretend it was young Sammy from this angle.

At this point in the video, the fucking was violent, fast, and deep; it was the kind of thrusting that hit the prostate spot-on and showed no mercy to the bottom. The boy was writhing his body in obvious ecstasy, shoving back greedy for every inch of that glorious alpha’s cock.

As for Dean’s lookalike, though there wasn’t any sound on, his mouth was open and obviously growling and grunting. His abs worked his hips like a piston into that desperate, little alpha. The twitching and flush of his face were indicating that his orgasm was very close and just as his motions started to stutter, he brutally grabbed the back of the alpha twink’s neck and a fistful of hair (much like Dean’s hands were on Sam) wrenching him back onto his plunging cock.

The video looped back to the beginning of the clip.

“Do you see?” Sam turned his head to watch the clip over his shoulder. Dean gazed transfixed at the TV. “Do see you it, Dean?” whispering ragged and breathless, Sam spoke into his ear and eased him to sit back on the couch, “It’s _us_.” Sam’s hand clasped Dean’s erection and began stroking urgently, “I opened my eyes and I was so surprised to see you fucking me on the computer that I stopped jacking off. I just watched for about five seconds, totally in awe, and then I just came all over myself. Out of nowhere, I swear to God, I wasn’t even touching my junk. I came so hard just by watching this. I couldn’t breathe, there were spots in my vision, and my ears were ringing. My whole body was shaking and I finally realized I was screaming and then I started moving my hand again and I kept coming and coming. I was screaming your name!”

The precome was leaking down Dean’s shaft, making a decadent fapping sound as Sam expertly jerked him and with one more glance up at Dean’s face to see his back was arched and face was drawn in longing, yet his eyes remained staring, unblinking at the porn-version of teenage Dean screwing his baby brother, Sam swallowed Dean’s cock down. “Sammy!” Dean cried out, voice loud and deep and strained.

Sam sucked hard, cheeks hallowing out and slurping with wild abandon. His lips stretched taught as he worked as much as he could into his throat. His tongue caressed all the bumps and veins he knew like the back of his own hand. Alphas were already large and Dean was above average, even if he wasn’t quite the gigantic size that Sam’s own cock was. Sam considered giving head an art form and found performing it was just as gratifying as receiving it. Feeling the brutal thrusts as Dean started losing control, using Sam’s mouth for his own pleasure, and smelling and tasting Dean’s sex at its source always drove Sam to complete, mindless distraction.

Dean was now writhing against Sam’s gulping mouth. One hand was still yanking on Sam’s head as he face-fucked his beautiful brother, the other hand was white-knuckled on the headrest of the couch. Dirty words ground out of his clenched teeth between almost painful, panting breathes, “Fuck yeah, my baby boy. My sweet, little baby boy going down on my cock. You like it Sammy, dontcha? Yeah, you fuckin’ love it! Take it- uh-ah! Take it!”

As Dean’s body thrashed under Sam’s wet mouth and stroking hands, his foot slipped between Sam’s thigh and pressed firmly against Sam’s own erection. Pleasure shot up from Sam’s groin to his spine and his body gave an involuntary shudder. Sam groaned around Dean’s shaft and shivered. He was so frantic for his own release, Sam grabbed blindly at Dean’s leg and held it tight against his body, grinding his cock against Dean. The passion was pooling in his gut and his hips sought out the pleasure where he had been neglecting it most. The moans from his throat were rhythmic now around Dean’s cock, timed with his desperate thrusts against Dean’s shin.

“Look at you,” Dean voice was all gravel and growling, “like a horny puppy humping my leg.” The pace of Dean’s hips was starting to stutter and his face was red. He was on the precipice, holding out against the swell of electric delight thrumming from his knot to every nerve in his body, “You gonna come like that, Sammy? Like you did when you were a kid watching porn?” Here Sam gave a sharp cry he barely recognized as his own voice and his hips started a sharp, short, and fast grinding against Dean’s shin. Nothing else mattered in the world, but the sensations that was driving him mad, the points of which were the plunging cock in his mouth with the knot swelling outside his stretched lips and his own bulging knot pulsing against his brother’s leg. “What if I had come in and saw you jacking off to some guy that looked like me, crying my name?” Dean’s other hand grabbed his own knot and started working it. Sam did the same.

So close.

“So hot and slutty,” Dean groaned, “Would you’ve humped my leg then, baby boy? Fuck-mmm, got on your knees and rubbed your cock all over your big brother, huh? I would’ve whipped my dick out and shoved it down your throat. Would’ve choked you with it! Little Sammy, fuckin’ teasin’- a-ah!” Sam’s eyes watered as Dean held his head down and throbbed as his cock released down his throat, shouting hoarsely. The taste of Dean’s come and the filthy words making him feel like some tool for Dean’s ecstasy, crashed hot, flaming pleasure up from Sam’s knot and shook his body to its core. Waves of bliss rolled over him and crashed at his toes and fingertips only to flood back and forth like a tide in his blood.

In the receding haze, he was aware of still sucking off Dean’s slackening erection and his taught muscles began to sag against Dean’s legs and the couch, little spasms of pleasure still shivering throughout his body.

Deans fingers were soothing over his soar scalp and their ragged breathing seemed too loud for their quiet living room. The porn clip was still flashing on screen and Dean laughed to himself as he closed media player on the laptop. “That’s gonna work me up again,” he chuckled, turning off Sam’s computer, “and we got work tomorrow.”

“Bed?” Sam kissed his thigh.

“Bed,” and Sam could tell that Dean meant to get some sleep this time around, his eyes already droopy.

They left their clothes where they lay and grasped each other’s hand as they made their way back to their bedroom. “You know,” walking slightly behind Dean as they climbed the stairs, Sam enjoyed the view of Dean’s flexing ass, “It took me a few seconds to download half a minute of that video. Back on Dad’s old computer, that flippin’ dial up took me 3 hours and 47 minutes for just that 28 seconds of sex. Lucky you guys were out fishing that day.”

“You downloaded it to Dad’s computer? You’re even luckier he never found it.”

“Please,” Sam and Dean entered their room, releasing the others hand to settle on their respective sides of the bed, “Do you know how many times I had to show that man how to use email? Where I hid that clip, there was no way he’d ever find it.” They scooted back together in the middle of the mattress, Sam laying on his stomach and draping his arm around Dean’s waist. Dean’s arm tucked under Sam’s neck and pillow to wrap around his shoulders. They shared one more slow, sweet kiss.

“Thanks Sammy,” Dean said in a hushed voice, “I needed that.”

“So did I,” Sam whispered back, “You know I was only 15 when I found that clip. Year and a half- maybe closer to two, before you even tried to kiss me.” His hand rubbed Dean’s side, “And sure I explored other types of pornography, betas and omegas and every pairing you can think of, I still came back to that one constantly. I’ve always loved you, Dean, and from my first rut, I’ve wanted you. Don’t you dare think for a second that anything we did when we were young wasn’t something I’d already wanted, heart, mind, and soul.”

Dean smiled down at Sam, adoring him with those green eyes. “Chick-flick, dude, total chick-flick,” but there was no real bite to the words. They stared comfortably for a little while, until Dean’s lids started to droop and his breathing slowed into sleep.

Sam took longer to drift off. He gazed at their roomy California king-sized bed, with bedposts and curtains that remained drawn back, waiting for some omega to finally make use of them while nesting. He was aware of the over-large dresser against the wall, a third of its drawers purposely left empty. In front of him was their walk-in closet. Exactly one third of the space inside was also empty, except for the spare hangers. Sam remembered the conversation they had when they moved in, speculating that if their omega was female they might have to split the closet in half and Sam and Dean could share their half and she would have plenty of room for her clothes and stuff. Until then, they’d keep it fair with thirds.

Faith sparked stubbornly inside Sam. Dean might not talk about their omega anymore, but the proof that he was still hoping to find them was inside those bare drawers and hanging on those empty hangers. Even as the room got tight and things got cluttered, Dean and Sam never encroached on their unknown omega’s space.

“We’re waiting,” suddenly sad that their omega was somewhere out there all alone, while Sam and Dean had each other to love, he muttered in the fuzz between wakefulness and slumber, “We’ll find you.”


End file.
